Family Matters
by Cherylyn
Summary: Harry has discovered that magic is wonderful, and he wants to live a long life with it. To do so, he has to find his closest living relative. Without even meaning to, he changes the course of history.


I do not own Harry Potter. I would have done things just a wee bit different, that is why I am writing this.

I have a hard time believing a smart man like Lord Voldemort would want the potential to win the whole shebang that Harry represented dead. I do so enjoy the effort he must make to sway someone who only wants from life what a Dark Lord finds the hardest to give, but is worth the effort if only he can overcome his need for crucios all around.

Pop yourself some popcorn and let's ride!

Harry was so excited! He loved Hogwarts. So many new things, so

many magical things. He loved it! Now if only this library would make

some sense, he could find a book on genealogy. A card catalogue would have been nice.

One of the first things he had noticed in this magical world was that all of the purebloods knew one another. After he had asked Ron about it, he knew that the inbreeding must have happened with the Potters too. So he must have family somewhere. It was just finding who was the closest in relation to him, and who didn't support 'The Dark' to the point of hurting him. Even so, the whole 'boy who lived' thing was sure to protect him, even if the closest family to him was just a bit dark. He would have no trouble letting them use him to keep a good name, just to have a place to live where he wasn't a slave and could eat when he was hungry.

He had a hard time believing Dumbledore had actually told him he had to go back. Harry explained that the Dursleys hated him, but Dumbledore said some nonsense he just couldn't accept. Harry knew for a fact that they hated him, they told him often enough. If actions speak louder than words, they had been screaming their hatred of him for years.

Here it is- _The Genealogy of the top 100 Magical Families._Now to find what he needed. Harry quickly flipped to the Ps, looking for Potter. There it was! This must be his lucky day!

Okay, the closest relative on his Father's side left alive was someone from the Black family. He was blood adopted by some man named Sirius, making him as close in relation as a Father. If he could find whether or not this Sirius supported the dark to a lesser extreme, and find out where he has been and why, he could look him up. Send him an owl, maybe.

Harry quickly checked the _Family Biographies_ for the name Black. Oh, well. Looks like he'll need to keep looking. The Black family was so steeped in the Dark they might off him anyway. He didn't want to die, he wanted to make this life with magic worth living in.

His Mother's side had a branch too. Harry was a bit surprised, she was supposed to have been a muggleborn. Wait- Since she wasn't a muggleborn, He Wasn't Related To The Dursleys. How is it possible that the Headmaster didn't know that? Because he couldn't not know, since he said the blood wards protected him there. There could never have been blood wards since he wasn't related to them by blood. Surely they wouldn't have taken! Dumbledore was either a liar or a master manipulator. Come to think of it, he was probably both. How could anyone do that to a baby?

So the Headmaster; all knowing, all caring, they are your only family Harry surely you exaggerate, had to have known he had family elsewhere he could go to. He just didn't want him to go to. Did he want Harry raised the way he was, or just out of the magical world?

Harry was starting to feel a bit worried about that. What reason did he have? Did he want to take a chance on telling the Headmaster that he knew about this, or did he want to lock up a way out first? That would, of course, depend on how trustworthy Dumbledore actually was.

Right. Way out first.

His Mother's Father, his Grandfather, was the one to find. Since the Wizarding World is Patriarchal, he should start there. Right, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Now, a quick check in the Biographies- uh oh. Now what?

Surely Tom Riddle went to school here. He should be in a list of students somewhere. Since he was pants at this, best to ask.

He made his way rather quickly to Madam Pince.

"Excuse me, Madam Pince," he gave her a bright smile, "could you tell me where the lists of former students would be? I couldn't find a yearbook anywhere."

Madam Pince gave him a little smile. "You wouldn't, dear. Hogwarts does not do a yearbook. That is a muggle tradition. Here in the Wizarding World, we do House Trees for every year." She pointed to her left, at the bookshelf closest to her desk. No wonder he hadn't found it, no way he wanted anyone to know what books he had been rifling. Too close to discovery by her desk.

"Thank you so much!" He gave her hopeful smile this time. "I just wanted to know what my parents looked like, and maybe their friends. Thank you again!" He let his eyes water up a bit. "Do you mind, if I look for the first time by myself?"

His words had gotten to her, he could tell. Her eyes were bright, and she swallowed. "Of course, Mr. Potter. I will be in the back if you need me." She then took off at a brisk walk towards the back of the library.

Harry had a new appreciation for why the Sorting Hat wanted him in Slytherin. Just couldn't beat a good manipulation to get what you need, especially if you could add a few tears when you are the 'Boy Who Lived.'

He picked up a volume, wondering how to find the name of the man he was looking for. Why not just ask? That seems to be working for him already. "Find Tom Marvolo Riddle." He spoke in a clear voice, looking hopefully at the books in front of him. There- a set of seven books took on a glow!

Harry quickly pulled out the last one, he needed the most current information available. There he was, handsome devil. He could tell that he looked a lot like him. Harry wondered why everyone said he was a carbon copy of his Dad? Just proved that no one else knew that his Mom wasn't a muggleborn. He probably looked a lot like someone in every family, since there was so much inbreeding. Why would people do that? Maybe magic somehow kept the nasty side-effects in check.

Tom Riddle was a genius. Perfect scores in every subject, prefect, head boy. An award for services to the school. Boy, here was someone that must be somebody. Since his Mom was raised by someone else, maybe he didn't know that he had a daughter?

Harry wondered if he would be happy about having a Grandson. Now for finding him.

Harry didn't notice the glow that surrounded the genealogy book as it floated slowly back to its place on the shelf. Even castles in the magical world had their secrets.

Harry read his letter again at the owlry.

_Dear Mr. Riddle,_

_ I am looking for any links to my Mother that I can find. She was raised in the muggle world, and my family tree lists you as her Father. Since I am not sure whether or not you gave her up for adoption, or even know about her, I want to respect your privacy. Would you be willing to give me a list of family illnesses that are hereditary, and any information on other family members if you don't mind them knowing about me?_

_Thank you. You can contact me at Hogwarts. I have started my first year, having lived in the muggle world as well, so if I have offended you by not following proper protocol please forgive me._

_Harry Potter_

Yes. This would work. Harry called Hedwig down, and gave her the letter. "Please find Tom Riddle for me girl." She gave his fingers a friendly nip, then took off.

All that was left was the wait.

Harry was sitting at the Griffindor table three mornings later, eating contentedly. He found waiting for a reply to be an easy thing. Who wouldn't want to add the 'Boy Who Lived' to their family tree? There was no way he wouldn't be wanted, even if it was only for his name. He could accept that, since such a life was better than the one he had.

He looked up as Hedwig landed in front of him, a letter clutched in her talons. He took it with great excitement. This was it, his chance at a better life.

As soon as he saw the writing, he felt disappointment sour his stomach. This was the letter he had written. "Is he dead, Hedwig?" he asked his faithful owl. She gave him a chirp he interpreted as a no. "Could you not reach him?" Her distressed cry let him know she was sorry, that she just couldn't get to him.

He slumped in his seat, as he fended off the attention of Ron about his letter. No need to give the game away now, since he just didn't feel safe yet. No way was he going to take a chance of Dumbledore finding out.

Time to plan. What kind of magic made it hard to find a person? And who has access to the knowledge to find out the answer to that question, wasn't closely connected to Dumbledore, and might be easily convinced to help him?

How about the defense professor? That position changes every year, so he wouldn't be close to Dumbledore. He has traveled some, and knows how the wizarding world works. And, he is a stuttering, muttering fool. Perfect.

Now to plan how to trap him, convince him to help, and keep him from telling anyone.

"Thank you for seeing me, Professor Quirrel." Harry said, as he took a seat in front of the Professor's desk. He was mindful of what he was going to say, trying to be polite and hope his plan worked.

"I'll s-say, y-you took me by s-s-s-surprise. To wh-what do I owe the pl-pleasure of this v-visit?" Harry thought there was some sarcasm there, but surely he heard wrong. This may not be as easy as he was hoping for. What if the professor believed all the rumors about him living a good life, and wouldn't take him serious?

Harry scooted until he was sitting on the edge of his seat, dropping all smiles and friendliness. He had his regular Quirrel headache anyway. Time to make him understand that he meant every word he said.

"First, I need you to promise me that you won't tell anyone what I am going to tell you." Harry looked him right in the eye, hoping to make him listen. "Especially Dumbledore." Was that a gleam of red in his eye? Must have been a trick of the light. He straightened his back a bit more, and spoke with a steady voice. "I want you to make me magical vow. I read in an old book about wizarding vows, and I want you to make me one that you will keep my secrets." He knew that he had made him understand how important this was when Quirrel leaned forward himself.

"I can, but usually there is a third person present to be the binder in a magical oath, Mr. Potter." He smiled a very creepy smile at Harry, which made him uneasy. Not to mention there was no stutter. Why was he hiding behind a stutter? "I can make you a magical promise, it won't need a binder. Will that suffice?" At least he was going to do it, and if he was playing dumb with a stupid stutter to slip under Dumbledore's radar, then that could only benefit him. Even if he couldn't help, he couldn't tell anyway.

"O.k., professor. How do we do this?" Harry asked him, wanting to get started before the good Professor changed his mind.

Professor Quirrel pulled out his wand, and began giving instructions. "Take your wand in your hand, Mr. Potter, and come over here." He waved his wand, clearing out a space beside his desk. He traced a circle on the floor, placing a rune on opposite sides. "Kneel on the rune by you, and I shall kneel on the rune by me. You have peaked my curiosity, and I am looking forward to finding out what you are hiding." Harry settled on his rune as the Professor settled on his, both of them holding their wands tightly.

"Now what?" Harry asked, ready for the next step. He was off balance a little with the lack of a stutter. He thought he would be able to lead Professor Quirrel by the nose, but now he wasn't so sure. Harry brought his attention back to the task at hand as the Professor continued speaking.

"Place your wand tip to mine, Mr. Potter, and just say 'I accept' after I make my promise. Ready?" he asked. Harry shook his head yes, a feeling of excitement running through him, knowing he would soon be one step closer to freedom with the help of a man capable of fooling Dumbledore.

Quirrel began speaking. "I promise to hold all I am told by Harry James Potter to myself, to not mention what I am told to anyone other that those present. So mote it be." Blue magic swirled around Harry's wand, so he spoke in a clear voice.

"I accept." A flash of blue light, and it was over. Harry smiled at Quirrel as he got to his feet. "I need you to help me find my Grandfather." He sat back down in the chair in front of the desk, ready to talk.

Quirrel seated himself behind his desk, giving Harry his full attention. "Why go about finding him by going through me?" Harry knew that was a reasonable question, and he already decided before he came to Quirrel, that if he could get an oath he would tell him everything.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, and began a painful conversation. "I live with muggles who hate me, and magic. They beat me, starve me, and lock me in the cupboard under the stairs. It has been my bedroom since I was dropped off with them. I didn't know my name until I started primary, and they only let me go to primary because the neighbors already knew I was there and they didn't want questions." He took a breath, and continued with more confidence. "I used to actually believe my name was Freak Boy."

"I hate them, and I don't want to go back. They told me to not come back, because if I did I would be sorry. I am already sorry, and if they make me any more sorry I think they would kill me." Harry's shaky hand reached up to rub his scar, the ache having lessened a bit with his story. The relief was welcome, it made it easier to talk about things he wanted nothing more than to forget.

"I went to Dumbledore to tell him that I didn't want to go back to the Dursleys, that they hated me, and didn't want me to come back." A grim smile appeared on Harry's face, as he remembered that conversation. "Then he told me, with a smile, that I was exaggerating simple misunderstandings, young children often feel unloved when they really are loved, and because they were my only family, I needed to try a little harder since I had to go back." Harry slouched in the chair, folding in on himself. Then he slowly straightened up, and looked Quirrel in the eye again.

"So I did some digging, and asked a few questions of my friends, and I found out that the wizarding world is pretty much inter-related. I only need to find who is the closest to relation to me, and I could leave the Dursleys for good." He had the Professor's undivided attention now. "I don't trust Dumbledore at all, because I found out my Mother wasn't a muggleborn." Harry thumped his arm on the chair in frustration.

"He had to have known! He told me I was protected by blood wards there! I am not related to them, so how could blood wards work? I checked! They can't! He had to have known they didn't work, yet he looked me right in the eye and told me I had to go back!" Harry was really angry now, and his magic started to swirl around him, causing papers to fly off the desk. He was gripping the chair arms with both of his hands now, trying to keep calm enough through the betrayal he felt to tell his story. "He told me they were my _only_ _**family, **_when they aren't related to me at all! With a _**Straight**_ _**Face**_**!"**

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Since I can't trust him, I decided to find my family on my own. I only know their names, I had to look the rest of the family up. The closest on my Father's side is a man named Sirius Black. He blood adopted me, making him my Father too, but his family is so dark they would probably kill me without thinking about it. I discovered my Mum was not a muggleborn, but adopted. The closest relation on her side is her Father, my Grandfather." Here Harry leaned forward, feeling a bit desperate. "I need you to help me find him. I sent my owl with a letter, but she brought it back. He is out there, but she can't reach him."

Harry stood and started pacing back and forth behind the chair he had been sitting in, pulling at his magic to help it to settle. He usually had such good control with hiding his true emotions. Even when angry at the Dursleys he was able to keep it in. It seemed as if there were too much energy in the air, more than he can handle. Of course now when he needs to look serious would be the time for it to just go nuts.

Harry didn't notice the look of surprise on the professor's face when he mentioned his Mum, or the look of interest when he mentioned a Grandfather. He just concentrated for a moment on deep breathing and scratching the itch of magic by changing color swirls in his palms until it settled. He used to play such games in the cupboard when he was smaller, figuring since he was a freak it didn't matter unless he got caught. That only happened once. Harry was nothing if not a fast learner. Once he had it under control, he looked up at Professor Quirrel.

"My owl left with the letter I wrote him, so I know he is alive out there. She came back with the letter unopened, so he just couldn't be reached." His look changed to a desperate plea, as he began to beg.

"Help me breach the wards he must be behind. I need him!" Harry's eyes began to glow with hope. Professor Quirrel was listening to him, paying close attention to what Harry was saying.

Professor Quirrel placed his hands on his desk, evenly spaced, and slowly stood up. This was just too good to be true, the possibility of Harry rebelling against the light was no longer a wished for dream. He was freely giving away the information he needed to turn Harry dark, and to win the coming war, with great ease. All he needed was to find Harry's Grandpa. "His name, Harry, I can't help you find him if I don't know his name." Quirrel could feel a mild euphoria building at the ease of which he was gaining such valuable information. One simple old wizard to control for the fate of the Wizarding World.

Harry was smiling with joy, now that he knew Quirrel was taking him serious, that he was going to help. "Of course! I'm sorry, I should have already told you. Riddle." Harry didn't notice that Quirrel froze at the name. "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Harry began to seriously worry about who his Grandpa could possibly be since his name alone made Professor Quirrel fall in his chair, pale and sweaty. "Professor? You all right?" He wondered if wizards could have heart attacks.

Harry flinched at the incredulous look Quirrel gave him as a reply. Maybe his Grandfather ran a magical mafia or something. It was just wishful thinking on his part, he could never get that lucky. He probably shoveled dragon dung and would expect Harry to take over that family business.

Quirrel suddenly jumped up, with his lip curled in a snarl. "Potter, you need to sit still." That was the only warning he gave as he began chanting a spell in Latin. Harry watched this strange new Quirrel with a little bit of worry. Why did he seem to be so upset with him? Harry forced himself to sit really still as he wondered if he should have included a clause about not harming Harry while they worked together.

Professor Quirrel looked exceptionally vicious. Harry decide if he lived through this, he would make 'no violence' on his person a part of every oath from now on.

"Professor, what are you doing?" Harry swallowed nervously, hoping whatever the spell was if pain was involved it would be quick. "Ow!", he yelped as a pinprick of blood was pulled from the tip of his finger. Well, it was quick. Maybe from here things would start looking up.

Maybe not. Quirrel seemed to be in need of a strong shot of whiskey. "Just exactly who is my Grandfather that he seems to upset you?" Harry asked calmly, after all it was a reasonable question.

Quirrel ignored him, looking at the piece of parchment that had absorbed his blood as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Harry had no way of knowing that it was.

"Professor?" Harry asked calmly, quietly, afraid to set the man off. It looked to him as if the good man were about to burst. "Who is he to you?" Harry shrank back into his chair as Professor Quirrel turned and looked at him. There was no doubt this time, his eyes were red.

"Oh my dear Harry, you have no idea. I will find your Grandfather, return him to you, all before the end of the year. Will that be enough for you?"

Harry couldn't stop the joy he was feeling, he jumped up, ran around the desk, and unknowingly hugged the Dark Lord Voldemort. "Thank you Professor, thank you so much." It almost felt like a prayer.

"Harry, my dear boy, your welcome." And with that simple statement, the course of the wizarding world was changed forever.


End file.
